Snowflake
by Rauken
Summary: Behind me, I can hear the men coming to capture. I start to run..." Kaiba brothers centric. Rated for future violence, and unknown


Hello, Rauken here, posting another story. I hope you're grateful that it's 11:30 & I'm supposed to be studying for a biology test.  
  
Anyways, I'm posting this because my honors english class does not know how to critque & I wanted some more opinions. Originally, this wasn't a fanfiction and had all original characters. But I decided to change it. Now it's kinda different from the story I'm handing in, but who cares. I want to put it somewhere where people might appreciate it. More a/n's will be at the end 'cuz I'm rambling.  
  
Snowflake: Chapter 1  
  
I walk down the street. A very dirty, cold, wet street I might add. The fact that I'm limping does not make me any happier. Why am I limping, you ask? I am limping because my idiot coworker, Tarre, tripped me again. I swear, he's out to get me. "It gets good laughs from the customers when you look like a klutz," he says. Well, he can go trip himself for all I care. I have enough to worry about at the bar.  
  
Snow's starting to fall. It looks so peaceful coming down. I stop to catch a flake on my hand and peer down at it. I can barely see it, my hands are so pale. I wait for a moment before hearing the yells and gunshots of a fight coming this way. I should hurry home. Usually I don't mind a good fight, but I'm tired. Besides, I don't want to get mugged while just standing here. Anyone who's planning on that probably saw me limping.  
  
I pass bums on the street, and druggies as me for money. One of 'em actually does try to mug me, but he's to out of it to hurt anyone.  
  
I kick trash out of my way and climb the steps to my apartment building. The stairs have to be taken to my one-room apartment. The elevator's broken. I don't think I ever seen it working the whole time I've lived here. You get what you pay for, I guess and it's cheap to live in this place.  
  
It's hasn't been long since I move in here. Personally, I woulda picked a better spot, but I'm still at school so I don't have all that much time to work. Less work equals less money. Hence the job at a run down bar. I fight for money too. It's nothing that serious, I'm not some kind of assassin. Think wrestling ring, only street fighting ring.  
  
Nevermind. . .  
  
The door to my room is a little stuck, so I kick it a few times before nearly falling in. I look up and stare. For some reason, the lights are on in my room even though I distinctly remember turning them off when I left; but that's not what has me confused.  
  
There is a kid sitting on my bed.  
  
I also distinctly remember him not being there when I left.  
  
It's a 12 or 13 year old boy with black hair and purple eyes and he's staring at me. Very freaky, but pretty purple eyes. He keeps staring at me. I wish he would stop that. I finally have to break the silence  
  
"Hey," I call, "you're not supposed to be in here. . ."  
  
He's still watching me and those violet eyes are making me nervous so I try again.  
  
"Are you lost?"  
  
He only watches me, so I go sit next to him on the bed. I had to get off my leg. I think Tarre really hurt me this time. I'll get him for it tomorrow.  
  
But back to more pressing matters.  
  
"Can you talk?" I ask. He shakes his head and tilts it, looking at my swollen ankle. Signs of intelligent life. Okay, we're making progress here.  
  
"Are you lost?" shake.  
  
"Are you supposed to be here?" All I get is a half smile, while he keeps staring at my leg. He reaches out to test for injuries. Yeah, that hurts kid, knock it off.  
  
"Are you hurt?" shake.  
  
"Is you're family around here?" sad shake.  
  
"And if I ask you you're name you won't tell me, will you?" nod. Well fine, so what am I supposed to call him?  
  
"Do you have a place to stay?" shake.  
  
I can't just throw him out; the nice criminals only come out during the day, and it's late. What kind of moron kicks a little kid run around like this? I sigh and take out a futon, unrolling it on the floor.  
  
"You take the bed. This floor's bathroom is down the hall, on the left if you need it."  
  
I don't tell him where the food is. If he hasn't seen the mini-fridge and the two-burner stove in the corner, he's not as smart as he looks.  
  
I take out some old sleep pants, tossing them to him while grabbing some myself. We politely turn our backs while the other changes and settle into our respective sleeping spaces. I can hear him snoring just before drifting off myself.  
  
* * *  
  
Sunlight is streaming through the window when I wake up. The sun only does that when it is sunrise. I am not meant to be up at sunrise. Someone is going pay when I get off this futon.  
  
My bones crack while standing up. There's a little reminder of last night when I put weight on my ankle. Wait. . .  
  
Last night. . . where's that kid? Glancing around I find him at the door holding what looks like bandages. He's pretty smart if found those.  
  
He crosses the room and offers them to me. The boy seems proud of helping me; he has such a big grin on his face.  
  
* * *  
  
After fixing me up and eating a little breakfast, I start the task of finding The Kid some clothes. I can't afford anything and the stuff I found him in was already rags. It looked like he'd been in a hurry to get away, wherever he was from. We scrounge up some outgrown clothes from some of the more, shall we say, productive mothers in the building. Yes, there are prostitutes and sluts in the building, and yes, they do get pregnant.  
  
The Kid makes it his never ending duty to help me out with the work that needs to be done in our apartment. We wash clothes, watch some of the apartment kids, clean, cook and do all the other crap that everybody hates doing. I don't know why he's helping me out so much, but I'm not complaining. I'm surprised at how smart he is. He fixed four appliances in an hour. Which gets both of us a little pay.  
  
We end up having time left over before dark, when I have to work, so I get some paper and a pen decide to find out if he can at least write. I want to communicate with him some how. It's frustrating not knowing anything about him.  
  
"Can you understand this?" I write out. He reads the paper and shakes his head. Very funny Kid.  
  
Well if he's just going to play stupid, then I'm going to work. I tell him this and he smiles.  
  
"I'm gonna be back in a couple hours. Don't break anything." He watches the snow come down as I leave.  
  
TBC  
  
The next chapter will have more action, I swear!  
  
Now that you're all finished, it's time for group participation. I need to discuss a few things. I need input on what to do with this. Since it was originally an original story, It had all original characters. Obviously, I was able to easily put Mokuba in there. But I can't decide who's POV this is.  
  
I can either: A) Keep the character an OC and the fic will turn out more like I had originally intended Or B) Use a canon character and butcher the fic.  
  
I would love to keep my OC in here. But I know that they don't go over too well around here. This character would not be a 'Mary-sue' although I can't promise that there wouldn't be romance. (If there is. I swear to pull it off well or not at all).  
  
Please give my your thoughts. If you want to see the original story, Ask in a review or visit my lonely, lonely mailbox. I'll be happy to email you a draft. 


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